


Waves from the Past

by farad



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 08:23:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19460131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: Set between end of "Serenity" (the movie) and before the events of "Leaves on the Wind" (the graphic novel), this is a speculation on what transpired between.The 'Major Character Death' warning is in reference to the events of "Serenity", not to anything that happens in this story.





	Waves from the Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silveradept](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/gifts).



The package came sometime in the months after Miranda. Inara could never be sure exactly when; she had been reluctant to have all of her things shipped from the Training Center, not sure how long she would remain on “Serenity”. She believed that her presence was necessary in the aftermath of the loss of Wash and Shepherd Book, and she had taken some comfort herself from being able to help put “Serenity” back together. The process had been cathartic to them all, even Zoe.

Though it hadn’t taken long for Inara to realize that what kept Zoe going had more to do with the life growing within her, the life that had been so new at the time of the Miranda catastrophe that Zoe had not known it was there.

Inara had told herself she would stay to help Zoe with the birth and settling in; while Kaylee and River were there, they had no practical experience with pregnancy and early motherhood. As Mal had reminded her, more than once, she didn’t either, but she had had training in it; it wasn’t uncommon for Companions to choose motherhood, after all, nor was it uncommon for them to take children in.

But as they were nearing the last trimester, the tension with Mal was growing more acute. His moods were more volatile than usual, and just this morning, he had reminded her that she owed him rent for the shuttle.

Not that she had been working as of late. Not that Mal had encouraged her to do so, as they were trying to lay low and hide away from the Alliance.

She had gone back to the shuttle, angry and intent on packing her things to leave.

Which was when and how she arrived at the small package that had been tucked away within a larger one, wrapped in a cape she had not yet had need to unpack. It was addressed to her care of the Training Center, which meant that it had been sent to her from elsewhere – in this case, from Persephone.

That didn’t clarify things; she knew a number of people on and from Persephone, not the least of which was Atherton Wing, the man Mal had fought and defeated, ostensibly to defend her honor.

The thought made her smile, despite herself. But the idea that this package might be from Atherton worried her. They had not parted on good terms and she suspected that now, things were worse, as she had had him blacklisted. Perhaps it was an attempt to get back into her good graces?

The idea turned the smile into a sigh, and for a few seconds, she held it, thinking to drop it straight into the recycle shaft.

But it was possible that it was not from Atherton and she needed to make sure of that before she disposed of it.

With that in mind, she held her identichip to the locking mechanism on the box. She was surprised when, instead of instantly unlocking, a thin top plate slid to one side, revealing a small screen, upon which a question waited: who is the angriest man you know?

She stared at it for a time, confused. The answer had come instantly to mind: Malcolm Reynolds.

But who would know that? And why would this someone ask such a thing?

Was it possible that someone else was the answer?

She noticed after a time that there were numbers in the bottom right of the screen – and they seemed to be counting down. At present, they were at 30, but going backwards rapidly. She assumed that if she did not answer the question, the lock would reseal and she would not be able to open it at all.

And now, she was more than a little intrigued.

So, hoping that giving an answer, even if it were wrong, would give her another chance, she said quietly, “Malcolm Reynolds.”

The numbers stopped going backwards, freezing at 18. Then the screen went dark and the familiar sound of the lock gears clicking as the mechanism worked to open told her that she had answered correctly.

She didn’t have long to wonder, though, because the lid slid easily and silently to one side. A puff of air brushed her cheeks, cooler than that of the shuttle and letting her know that the box had been completely sealed.

The contents were wrapped in golden silk, the weave so fine that Inara closed her eyes, just letting her fingers rub along the delicate material. She could tell that it was old, but it had been treated with great kindness and perhaps even love.

Eventually, her movements parted the cloth, and she opened her eyes to see what was revealed. A book, bound in what appeared to be leather. The title was hard to see, but it was embossed in the leather itself, rising up to meet the tips of her fingers.

She knew who had sent it as soon as she translated the three words: The Holy Bible.

Shepherd Book.

For an instant, she felt elation. They had been wrong, he had not been killed at Haven.

But she knew better. Which made this even more confusing.

She was familiar with the book before her. Her training, as with that of all Companions, included extensive work with the major faiths and belief systems from Earth that Was as well as those that had evolved in the past centuries. Some faiths, such as the one of Shepherd Book, had not seen her work as beneficial or spiritual. They had had a few tensions because of their different views of – well, most things, but despite that, or perhaps because of the experiences they had shared in their time aboard “Serenity”, they had become friends.

Friends enough that she had sincerely grieved for him, and in many ways, she still did.

She reached in, carefully pushing the cloth away and drawing the book from its shelter. It was heavy, much larger than the one she had seen him with so many times in the past. But she knew that was not necessarily significant; she herself had multiple copies of the Tipitaka and the Trantric texts.

This book seemed very old, and she handled it carefully, afraid to damage it. As she moved the box away and settled the book in her lap, an envelope slid out, almost falling to the floor before she caught it.

It was addressed to “The Ambassador” - the title in quotation marks.

It was also in the familiar, clear handwriting of Shepherd Book.

Her vision blurred for a few seconds as she blinked away the tears. She took care as she turned the envelope over and opened it. It was paper – not a synthetic variation designed to transport a holocard or some other form of technology. Real, fragile and expensive, paper.

As were the pages within it.

As with the cloth, she took some time to appreciate the feel of them, as fine as the finest cloth, though more delicate and fragile.

She wondered where he had found it, and how much he had paid for it. Then, more to the point, why he had squandered it on her.

As she unfolded the pages, she found the answer in the first paragraphs, hand written in his clear, precise style.

_Inara, my friend;_

_I hope I can call you that. I know that during our time together, I often seemed uncomfortable with your calling, but I also found that you were among the most compassionate of us - often more so than myself. Perhaps that is why that I am sending this to you, in hopes that you will find the compassion to care for this as I would hope._

_This Bible was given to me, in much the same way that I am giving it to you. At the time_ _I received it_ _, I was not a believer, as I know that you are not now – at least, not in the specifics of my religion. Like you, I inherited this book; a man who I thought I hardly knew sent it to me as part of his last will and testament._

_Which brings me to the point of this letter. If you have received it and the Bible, then I have passed. Which gives me the freedom to say some things to you that I should have said before. This is not a lecture – please hear me out._

_Your decision to leave Serenity surprised us all, none more than Mal. There was no lack of conjecture as to why you left, of course, and I am no less human than the others. And in many ways, perhaps more human than I have admitted. I have my own secrets, as the others have mentioned more than once, and I have committed by own sins._

_It is because of my own history that I find myself compelled to send this to you. I felt in you a great pain and, perhaps because of that pain, a great fear. I do not mean to pry – and of course, at this point, I cannot pry. But I know pain and fear from making my own very bad mistakes and suffering the consequences. As this is not a message about my past, I will not elaborate here. If you wish to know more, at some point, look into the destruction of The Alexander, and understand that I was responsible._

_What I will say to you is that no matter how much you hurt, fear is not something to give in to. I spent too long living in fear – in the fear of my own sins, in the fear of the punishment that could come._

_In the fear of hurting others._

_It is, I think, this fear that I see most in you: the fear of hurting others, or of others suffering when you believe that you can stop it._

_I appreciate that this is part of the tenants of your own beliefs, as it is, actually, a tenant of my faith. But there is a difference between causing pain directly by inflicting it, and causing it inadvertently by believing that you can take away pain by leaving people behind._

_T_ _hat is not what happens. I have seen the aftermath of your leaving, when you left Serenity. It was not painless for those you tried to protect._

_Kaylee was beside herself. While she is a strong young woman, with a very practical head on her shoulders, she is also not one to make friends easily. Not ones as close as you. While she may have waved you frequently, she still missed having you with us physically._

_River also missed you. I found her often wandering through your shuttle, looking at the things you had left behind. It was not her perpetual curiosity that drove her; she found comfort in sitting with your things. She told me once that you left before your time and that she wasn’t ready._

_But the one who missed you most, of course, was the Captain. I think he blamed himself for your leaving. And were I to speculate, I think that he is what drove you away, though perhaps not for the reasons he thinks. I think it is him that you fear hurting the most._

_I have struggled with my thoughts of him. Some days, I think he is an unrepentant killer, but then he will do or say something that shows the depth of his feelings – of his beliefs. He does have them, they are the core of who he is. It saddens me that he does not realize this about himself._

_And worse, that he cannot accept his love for you. The day I came to tell him I was leaving the ship – days after your own departure – I came across him in the dining area, alone. He was talking, though not to himself. He was talking to you, saying the things that he had not been able to say to your face._

_It is what I heard then, Inara, that convinces me that he does love you. Perhaps you know this and this is why you left the ship. But running away from love does not make it lessen nor does it diminish the pain._

_If you find the time and interest, I have marked a number of passages in this Bible that you might find of interest. Here, specifically, I will share with you a few verses from one of the books within this book, titled First Corinthians. This is from chapter 3, and if have marked it with a red ribbon:_

_“ If I speak in the tongues[_[ _a_](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Corinthians+13&version=NIV#fen-NIV-28667a) _] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,[_[ _b_](https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Corinthians+13&version=NIV#fen-NIV-28669b) _] but do not have love, I gain nothing._

_4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres._

_8 Love never fails.”_

_It is the last two lines that I think you need to consider most strongly. It took me far too long to understand and accept them – so long, in fact, that I have lost the opportunity that you now have. There is time for you and for Malcolm to accept and honor the gift of your love for each other, and I encourage you to do so._

_There. I have said my peace, and I hope that you find more comfort with this unexpected gift than concern for its care. I wish you happiness and a good, long life, my friend._

  


_\- Derrial Book_

  


She sat quietly for a long time, reading and re-reading the letter. Now and then, she moved it from her lap, to protect it from the drops of moisture that fell from her, marring the handwriting. 

How she missed him. 

How she wish ed she had taken the time to talk to him. To tell him how right he was. 

She wasn’t certain how long she had been sitting with the letter and the book, but her body was reluctant to move when the sound of someone hitting the hatch came, followed almost immediately by River’s voice calling, “Inara? May I come in?” Of course, she already was in, but at least she was trying to practice the niceties of announcing herself before she appeared. 

She was making progress, one of the few good things to come out of the Miranda debacle. 

Inara didn’t have time to put away the letter or the Bible before River was there. 

She didn’t have time to order her thoughts, either, so it was not a surprise when River said, “He sent you a copy of his important book? I tried to correct it once, but he was angry with me. He told me that you cannot correct faith.” 

‘ _It saddens me that he does not realize this about himself.’_

No, she realized, you cannot correct faith. And more to the point, you have to realize when someone has a faith that drives them. 

As Malcolm Reynolds had. A faith in his view of life. A faith in his friends. 

A faith in the things he cares about. 

“Simon is the best at what he does.” River’s words were quiet, and perhaps that, more than the words themselves, caught her attention, bringing her out of her thoughts. 

She looked up to meet the girl’s steady gaze. “Simon is putting my head back together,”  River said, the words still quiet and steady. “I don’t like that I have to rely on drugs all the time, but I can think. I can do things like pilot the ship. I can talk to you, and to the others and you understand me.”  She reached out a hand, her fingers lightly touching the Bible. “I can remember him, and what kind of man he was. A good man.” She frowned then went on, “Though he didn’t believe it. He killed a lot of people before he started reading this book. He was trying to be good.” 

Inara nodded,  thinking about the references to “The Alexander”. She wasn’t certain of it, but there was some sort of tragedy associated with the name. She would have to research it. 

But before she could say anything, River leaned down and forward, getting very close. Her next words were even more quiet, as if she understood the significance – the secret – of what she was saying. 

“He can save you, too. You must let him try.” 

Inara sat as still as she could, trying to show nothing. “ What are you talking about?” she asked, though she knew that River knew. 

Inara  had said nothing to anyone here – ever. The disease was one that she had inherited, not one that  w as passed by contact  or exposure to those who had it. In truth, she was safe to everyone around her, even those that she slept with. The disease was in her genes, one that would manifest in her alone, unless she chose to have children.

Which, of course, she would not. 

“Simon was at the top of his class,” River said, the words familiar. “But it’s more than that. He’d doing work now, with me, on gene editing. He could do the same for you, Inara. He could make you well.” 

Inara drew in a breath, looking away. She didn’t want to believe the words, the very idea of it. The hope would be too much. 

The hope would be the thing to keep her here. To keep her with Mal. 

She felt a weight on the couch next to her and turned to find River sitting beside her. River was staring at her, large eyes wide and so very perceptive. 

Though it wasn’t the eyes, Inara scolded herself, it was the brain. The conditioning – the torture – River had endured at the hands of the Alliance. They had destroyed certain parts of her brain to make her a telepath. 

Which was how she knew. 

“The Shepherd told me once that some people leave because they can’t bear the weight of hurting other people. He wanted me to think he was talking about you, but I knew that he was talking about himself. He ran away because he thought it would make things easier – but it never does.” 

Her fingers traced over the embossed letters of the title of the book, careful and slow, as if she were memorizing them. But she continued to talk, her eyes on Inara. “He tried to think the same thing about the Captain, but he couldn’t. Before he left the ship, he told me that the Captain would always come back for him and for any of the rest of us. He said that the Captain wanted people to believe that he didn’t care, but that he opposite was true: the only thing the Captain truly believed in was the people he loved.” 

She looked away at that point, down to the book in Inara’s lap. It as a physical relief when her eyes moved, and Inara drew in a deep breath. 

“He was right. The Captain does believe in us all – in what we can do when we are together. He wants you to stay, Inara. But he’s afraid that you’re planning to leave. Again.” 

Abruptly, River stood up, her hands at her sides. “We all want you to stay. We need you. And Simon can make you better.” 

With that, River turned and ran out of the shuttle, her steps fast but easy on the floor of the ship. 

Inara sat for a long while, staring at the book. Eventually, when sitting became painful, she rose stiffly and put the book back in the box in which it had come, folding it carefully back into the beautiful silk cloth. The door of the box closed silently and slowly, giving her time to place the letter on top of the Bible before they both vanished into the safety of the controlled environment. 

It was that thought, of safety and controlled environments, of sterility, that finally made her decide. Deliberately, she moved to her console and keyed the locking sequence. One of the small drawers opened, and from it, she took a data port. Then, glancing at the time, she nodded. She had missed dinner, but that wasn’t a concern. 

Simon and Kaylee and River would be in the general area of their quarters, where they usually were this time of the evening. Mal would be on the bridge, as he was most nights. 

She would start with Simon, as what he said would affect what she could say to Mal. 

What she would say to him. 

As she passed the parcel from the Shepherd, she reached out to touch it, reminded that love comes in all forms. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was based on a prompt to write more about the relationship between Inara and the Shepherd. I hope that it serves. Thanks to all who helped with the creation and beta of this, all mistakes in content and time line are my own.


End file.
